Holding on Tight
by Exp232
Summary: The Winchester Brothers are slipping. Dean's hunting skills are waning, his home life nonexistent, and Sam is as silent as ever. What can make Dean start to lose the only thing he has known since his childhood? What will give Sam the courage to tell Dean is true haunts? Rated T for language. May be rated M in the future. Interesting AU. Don't forget to R&R!
1. Chapter I, The Introduction

**Holding on Tight, Chapter I**

**Dean is slipping. His hunting skills are waning, home life nonexistent, and concerning his brother more and more each day. What can make Dean start to lose the only thing he has known since his childhood? Rated T for language. May be rated M in the future to keep my options open. Interesting AU. MAY CONTAIN WINCEST AT A LATER DATE! Don't get too attached if you don't like it.**

**I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. I'm not making money off of this, I swear!**

**PLEASE REVIEW**

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They had been hunting them for over six weeks now, and this mistake was the most intense yet. Sam was only yards away from the Pack Leader, with Dean just steps behind. Machete poised for the kill, Sam was just about to end the creature's life when the leader's mate attacked from the flank. Aimed at Sam, she, more or less, missed her target and ended up colliding haphazardly with Dean, ending in a crumpled entanglement of limbs and desperation on the soft forest grass. Stunned, Dean struggled to get a good hold on the strong creature, which kept squirming around his advanced wrestling pins like he was a puppy playing with his sister.

Dean tried to gain the upper position, but in an instant the Alpha Female had him pinned helplessly to the ground. She opened her mouth to speak, exposing her dirty White fangs. She lunged for Dean's Carotid, only as Sam came from behind and carved off the being's head as though it were the twig of an Oak Tree.

Splattered with dark red blood, Sam helped his brother from the cold dirt without uttering a sound. Silently, the two walked back to the Impala, both knew the Hunt would not continue. The alpha male was, by now, long gone with the rest of his clan, exempting his mate, who lay rotting under a copse of White Maples. Once again, the hunt had failed.

Dean walked into the motel room, shutting the door behind him gently. Turning on the lights, he just made out Sam's right foot pass the threshold into the bathroom, and abruptly slamming the entrance shut. Dean screwed up… Again. This was the third time this month he had let the vampire clan escape, although this was the first time he had let that bitch of a vamp get the best of him. How could he let it get so close to ending him?

Frustrated, he sulked over to the Kitchenette, opening the refrigerator to find only cold pizza and Sam's yogurt. Nothing particularly numbing, Dean started walking towards his room, stopping in front of the bathroom door.

Dean looked down. He wondered at the light escaping from underneath the door, spreading across the dimly lit carpet with ease. He listened to the shower, hot water, pelting the plastic tub. Dean wished he was under the warm jets, soaking away the cold he felt from Sam.

Ever since he had come back from Hell, things had been different. Sam was receding, and Dean had no idea why. He first realized Sam's introversion a few weeks after he came back. He started to put in less input, started to just go with the flow, almost dangerously so. Soon it just turned into silence, with the only reaction being a shrug here, or a nod there.

One hot summer night, Dean just couldn't handle it anymore. Dean snapped. He cried at Sam, in some desperate attempt for help from his brother. Things in his brain were not right, with the whole death thing, and Alastair's torture episodes that still came back to haunt Dean in the Early hours of the morn. After that, Sam shut down, becoming all but a supernatural assassin, killing everything remotely questionable in sight.

Dean had no clue why Sam was so silent these past few months. Tonight was really the first time Sam had shown any actual emotion, albeit anger and frustration… possibly. Truthfully, Dean saw the door slam as a sign of improvement. This was the first time Dean didn't have to guess his brother's mood. It may be ironic, but at least it was something.

Dean looked up from his bed at the clock in the middle of the rom. 3:12a. God, they had gotten back to the room almost two hours ago. Has Sam really been in there this whole time?

Dean could still hear the water running in the next room. He got out of his cozy respite and went to the door of the bathroom, knocking loudly.

"Sam! Think it might be time to come out of there, don't ya' think? I mean, come on, is there any hot water even left?"

No answer, as expected. The water continued to run after a few seconds.

Dean slammed even harder on the wooden door.

"SAM! Come on! You gotta' get out! Hurry your ass up, huh?"

Annoyed, Dean went back to bed, sliding under the sheets and waiting for that incessant pounding to stop.

Seven minutes later. Seven, mind you, the hiss of the pipes ceased. Dean could hear Sam pull back the shower curtain, creating a shriek loud enough to wake the sleeping dead.

Dean was just starting to doze off when Sam walked in, and got in bed. A bed that squeaked and moaned as though it were some demonic mouse, poised to strike at Dean's possibility of a few hours sleep. Which it should, considering Sam had also turned into a restless sleeper, tossing and turning most of the night.

Great. Another sleepless for night for Dean, only left to think about his desperate and delicate situation once more.

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**So, there is my first chapter in Holding on Tight! Please remember to review! **

**Just so you guys know, this story is being loosely based off of another story I've written, but have not posted, considering it's currently not in my possession (Long Story…). When it is, though, I'll be sure to post it!**

**I'm planning on updating at least once a week, with each chapter being around 1000 words. Sound good?**

**If you have suggestions, or would like to beta this story, please feel free to contact me! I'm open to anything anyone is willing to offer me.**

**Thank you for your support!**


	2. Chapter II, Sam Explains

**Holding on Tight, Chapter II**

**Hello everyone! Thanks to those who have decided to follow the story. I really appreciate it! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. With the Stomach Flu, work, and Finals next week, my spare time has suddenly taken an extended leave of absence.**

**After much frustration, Writer's Block and Word Documents in the Recycle Bin, I've decided to change the POV for this chapter. I want you to understand why Sam is… well… the way he is. **

**I don't know why but this one is kind of Drabbley. I didn't really intend for this, but it works, I guess.**

**Enjoy! **

**PLEASE REVIEW! THANK YOU IN ADVANCE!**

**I do not own anything Supernatural. It's unfortunate, I know. I don't own Google either.**

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Sam woke to the sounds of a relentless alarm clock. 5:30a. Today was Moving Day. Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up from bed. He hated moving. If he had his way they would stay in one place, at least for a month. Like when he and Dean were children. They'd stay in place for weeks, sometimes months. It may have been in a dingy motel room, but he still played house, making things as comfortable as he could.

Comfortable; Something Sam had not felt for a very long time. He missed the feeling. It was as though the storm had crept in on a good picnic in the meadow. Soon, it would drown everything away he had worked so hard for.

Sam went to the dinette table, where his computer sat in hibernation. Starting his search, he began looking for something interesting. Usually, he did this the night before the move, but he was so furious last night, there was no possibility of getting anything productive done. Sam typed in his password and opened his internet browser. He scanned over his usual sites. Nothing really caught his eye; A suspicious fire in a nondescript warehouse about 45 miles to the Northwest, a missing hiker and dog on a mountain trail, the court trial for three street racers is dismissed due to issues with Chain of Custody, nothing very catching to his eye.

After a half hour of browsing, Sam heard Dean stirring. He eventually came out of the bedroom with a towel and went into the bathroom. Soon, Sam heard the shower. He never quite understood why Dean took his showers in the morning. How he could sleep in the days grime and sweat went beyond him.

Sam stood and walked over the refrigerator. Grabbing a cup of Fage and plastic spoon from the Ziploc baggy in his suitcase on the living room couch, he sat back down and looked through another local news agency site, eating his yogurt slowly.

Dean finished in the shower and came out of the bathroom with new clothes and a fresh shave. Seeming renewed, he whistled on his way over to the refrigerator and took a slice of cold pepperoni pizza and ate at the counter, not once speaking to or even looking at Sam. Finishing, he went to the bedroom and started packing.

Sam stopped eating and rubbed his forehead. Things with Dean had become awkwardly hopeless. Ever since he lost him, Sam couldn't stop thinking about how much he missed his brother, about how much he needed him. The two were inseparable since Sam was a toddler. His first memories were of Dean. Having Dean taken away was the most traumatizing event Sam ever had to go through, worse than when they both lost dad. Sam was always closer to Dean than he was their father.

What Sam didn't understand was how he was supposed to act now that Dean was back. Things just seem uncomfortable after you miss someone for so long, wishing that you could see that person for just one more day, hour, minute. Seeing Dean again was exactly like that, but Sam had no idea what to do with his time. What could Sam do that was worthy enough to spend those precious seconds with one he cared so much for? He had no idea, and so their time together passes in silence, with nothing to converse about or do together except hunting.

So Sam did just that; hunt. He threw himself into work. It eased things with Dean, to some extent. It was second nature to both of them, something they could do, more or less, without thinking. It came so naturally by now that speaking between them wasn't needed. They knew each other well enough to discern what the other was about to do. Sam thought of it as two silent Indians, stalking their pray in utter silence, or two soldiers in a war zone who know each other so well, they don't need hand signals. It was this quiet work that gave Sam hope, if only a little.

Dean came out of the bedroom with his canvas duffel bag and opened the front door to go put his stuff in the trunk of the Impala. Sam sat up and placed the laptop and miniprinter in their case and took his suitcase and satchel to the car, turning off the lights and locking the door behind him.

Handing Dean directions to their next town, Sam walked to the Motel Office, and placed the key in a Drop Box. Dean rolled up next to him and Sam got in the grumbling muscle car.

"Good Morning."

The first words Sam had spoken in two-and-a-half months.

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**FYI: Fage is a popular Greek Yogurt, and, if you're wondering, Sam uses Google Chrome.**

**Thank you for reading! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! I'm really trying to improve my writing and I need your input! **

**Again, if you would like to Beta this story, or if you need me to Beta, I would be more than happy if you were to contact me. THANK YOU!**


	3. Chapter III, The Drive

**Holding on Tight, Chapter III, The Drive**

**Hello again! **

**After the views following Chapter Two more than doubled, I have been motivated to publish Chapter III post haste! Thank you again to those who have followed the story, and a special shout-out to those who Favorited the story! Your support is much appreciated!**

**I have but one complaint. NO REVIEWS!? WHY!? I need to know what you think! Let your voice be heard! If you have question, comments or concerns, feel free to drop me a PM or just REVIEW THE STORY! I cannot stress it enough: REVIEW!**

**This Chapter is from Dean's POV again. I don't know if you like me switching it up like this, but I hope you do? This is also where the AU truly starts to form, i.e., this is where I really start to diverge.**

**WARNING- Rated T for language**

**I don't always own Supernatural, but when I do, I'm dreaming my ass off. I hate you, Mr. Kripke.**

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After six hours and 450 miles, Dean and Sam made a pit stop at a small diner to get a bite to eat and use the restroom. Dean parked the car and walked inside next to Sam.

Sitting down, a waitress walked up and asked what they wanted to drink. Dean ordered coffee, while Sam just asked for water.

Sitting in silence, Dean couldn't help but to think about Sam's sudden, yet short-lived, change of heart. The short conversation that ensued after Sam's morning greeting was both amazing and insanely awkward. Basically, they just talked about how bad the last motel beds were. And even then, the conversation only lasted for five minutes at the very most. Soon, Sam just sank back in his seat and resumed his contented silence, which made Dean furious with himself.

He knew that he should've taken the small window of opportunity and just asked him what in God's name was keeping Sam from speaking to him. He missed out on what might've been the only chance he would get in a very long time to actually explore the deeper questions he had about what would happen now that he was back.

Quite frankly, Dean had no clue how Sam handled things on his own while he was in Hell. Sam never talked about it, obviously. He had never talked about his time in Hell either, but that was different. Dean's time in Hell was something he could never truly explain, even to Sam. He didn't even know if he could talk about it all, considering he had never tried. Even if he did, though, some parts of the story were either too painful to think about, or were just missing entirely, as Dean couldn't recall what truly happened. It was as though he was living multiple lives in multiple bodies at the same time, mixing and melding his memories like different colors of paint falling into a glass of water, churning and whirling until they were a single mutation of what was once many different things. It was a very harrowing experience for Dean, to say the least.

Of course, he wanted to talk to Sam about he did know. There were things he needed to get off his chest, confessions and experiences he needed to share. It was getting harder and harder for him to hold everything in. He needed some weight lifted off his shoulders, and he usually did that by talking to Sam, no matter how mundane the topic. Not that living through Hell was mundane or anything.

"… to order? Mister?"

"I'm sorry?"

Dean came out of his introverted stupor to find the waitress standing impatiently at the end of the table.

"Do you want to order something? Or just keep staring out the window?"

"Oh…. Um, well I'll have the…."

Dean took a quick glance at the menu below his elbows, ordering the first thing that looked remotely edible.

"I'll have the Country Fried Steak and Mashed Potatoes."

"Great. Thanks. I'll get those to you. "

The waitress looked at Sam and went on about her business.

"Sam?"

Sam stared blankly at Dean, not making any expression that could help Dean surmise his mood. Dean had no clue what to say. He had never been good with words. That was always Sam's department. It was ironic that it was now Sam who was the silent one.

"I think we need to talk about some things. Do you think you can do that?"

_Oh God, what am I saying?_

"Well, yeah. I can talk, Dean. But talk about what?"

"Well…"

Dean stopped. This was not the place or time to do this. A dive was not going to be the place he explained himself to Sam. It was too public; too awkward.

"We need to talk about what the Hell is going on with us. You, never talking anymore… it's creepin' me out Sam…."

"What is there to say, Dean? I can't really think of anything to say on the subject."

_What is he talking about!? There's plenty to say!_

"Sam, you know that's not true. I have plenty to say to you. I just… Haven't yet."

"And why is that, Dean?"

"It's because… Because…"

Why hadn't he talked about it earlier? He wanted to. Dean wanted to ease his mind of the horrors he witnessed in Hell, but he could never quite bring himself to do it. Why was that? Maybe he didn't want to burden Sam, considering everything Dean put him through already. Telling Sam everything that he saw might just scare Sam out of his wits. Why Dean wasn't insane already was beyond him. Why would he want to worry Sam even further with his nightmarish thoughts?

"...Because I was scared. I don't want to push you away with what I saw. I don't want to make you think I'm a monster or something."

"Dean, you're my…"

Just then, the waitress walked up with two plates of food. Dean's Steak looked decent, with thick, golden gravy smothering the fried meat. Sam's Caesar Salad looked respectable as well, slathered with vinaigrette and crunchy croutons.

Sam frowned, "We'll talk when we get to the hotel."

"I think the word you're searching for is Motel," Dean scoffed, his mouth full of creamy Mashed Potatoes.

"Um, no actually; I got a bona fide hotel room this time. I'm sick of crap for a bed."

Dean was genuinely surprised. Sam very rarely splurged on hotel rooms. Not that money was a problem, but hotel stays were few and far between. This could very well make the next conversation a little easier to hold.

Both men ate their well deserved meal with gusto. Finishing in near record time, Dean ordered a pie to go while Sam paid the check. Soon, both were on their way once more, down a lonely highway in respite silence, waiting for the next stop to change their current predicament.

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There you have it, folks! Chapter III, The Drive.

This is one of my newer attempts at dialogue, so please excuse any oblivious mistakes I may have made. Just another reason why a Beta would be nice!

R&R PLEASE!

Thank you!


	4. Chapter IV, The Hotel

**Holding on Tight, Chapter IV, The Hotel**  
Are you ready for another installment of Holding on Tight? I know I am!  
I apologize for the extreme tardiness of this chapter. There were multiple factors that played into how late it is, including the fact that it is the holiday season.  
I now have a new beta! Thank you _iceyard_, for stepping up to the plate and tackling this monster of a challenge. I know our readers will appreciate the new-found quality.  
Everyone's input is appreciated. PLEASE REVIEW!  
I do not own Supernatural, but I do own a cool alarm clock.

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Bread, cheese, milk, eggs, yogurt, and beer were all sitting on the hotel table as Dean sorted it into the refrigerator and respective cupboards while Sam ferried the food from the car to their room. As Sam walked in, hands full of even more groceries, Dean looked up and smiled at his brother, who returned the favor. Busywork always calmed the two brothers down, giving their minds something to think about other than each other.  
After finishing with the groceries, Sam went to unpack his belongings and Dean went back to get out some supplies from the trunk of the Impala.  
Putting a box of empty shell casings on the ground next to the dining room table, Dean brought out the old bullet-making contraption Dad made long before Sam or Dean were old enough to comprehend what its use was, or what to even call it. Although, as Dean grew older, it came to pass that he was the expert Silversmith of the family, manufacturing silver bullets that surpassed even the most experienced hunters.  
Building the apparatus took about 20 minutes, as he connected the complicated tubing of small, heat-shielded furnace to the bottles of acetylene gas and 100% O2, and began constructing the Copper, brass, and steel bullet mold and rack.  
Dean worked slowly, letting his hands move without too much thought, as this ritual had become ingrained within him. Soon, his mind was able to wander as he idly heated the furnace to the correct temperature.  
Dean found himself thinking about the hunt. Sam had told him on the way here that he had narrowed it down to a 200-acre farm only a half-an-hour out of town, which was a little strange for vampires, who usually nested leagues upon leagues away from any civilization, preferring to prey on the lonely traveler instead of the power in numbers of a small township. He admitted it was strange, but never completely unheard of.  
Putting the first few miniature ingots of pure silver in the oven, Dean wondered what Sam could be up to. He was probably doing something on his laptop in their room.  
Standing up from his chair, he left the oven briefly and walked the few steps to the closed bedroom door.  
Bringing his hand up to the door, Dean was about to knock when—  
Crack!  
The front door exploded into wooden splinters, leaving a perfect rectangular hole where it should've been.  
Walking, or rather sulking, through the door, the Pack Leader and three of his followers came to face Dean who had been thrown to the floor by the force of the explosion.  
"Well. Well. Well. Looks like we found our huners. About time you rolled into town."  
Standing up slowly and raising his arms in the universal gesture of surrender, Dean's voice stayed quiet and calm, but just as asinine as ever.  
"Huh. Just like we rolled your bitch's head down a hill. What a coinkydink."  
Dean smirked, knowing he had hit a small cord with the Pack Leader, who's jugular started to bulge from his neck; A sure sign of stress.  
"Oh? So the huner likes to talk back, huh? Well that should be interesting when we get him back to our place. Wait 'till he sees what we've got in store for him and his friend."  
Dean almost forgot. Sam had basically saved his life from the Pack Leader's mate, whose name was apparently Iz.  
"Aw, how quaint. You miss her, don't you?"  
Dean started to slowly step back, away from his prey-turned-predator and towards the molten silver still cooking in the furnace. The beings followed suit, walking closer to Dean.  
Where in God's name is Sam?  
"Miss her? Not really, just her hot 'bod. Man, she was good in bed. But, then again, most Vamp women are."  
Dean reached the table and slowly reached behind him for the ceramic handle on the silver insert, grasping it carefully so as to not touch the white-hot metal inches from his hand. He could feel it burning his hand from the radiant heat, but he was sure that would be a small price to pay for avoiding the horrors of Vamp torture.  
"Oh, I can imagine. I'm sure her dominatrix made things interesting. But hot is an understatement considering—"  
Dean slung the Insert around his body, arcing the melted silver directly at the group before him. The Leader barely had time to scream out as the silver hit his torso, slicing through him like a knife through butter.  
The other two didn't come to such a sudden demise, as the metal only cut through half of their bodies.  
Falling to the floor and writhing in agony, the two vampires screeched out in very high pitch, screaming obscenities in strange tongues.  
Just then, Sam bolted out of the bedroom door, silver-throwing knives at the ready. Taking the suffering creatures out of their misery with ease, Sam looked to his brother, who was sweating from the heat of the silver and rubbing his red and blistering hand.  
"Well, that was interesting. You alright?"  
"Just my hand, but I'll be fine. A little late on the entry, there Sammy."  
Sam smiled. "Maybe, but at least I saved you from making any more Vamp S&M puns."  
Dean laughed, almost scaring himself from the sound. It was the first time he had actually expressed amusement in a very long time, which actually made him laugh harder.  
Sam joined in, chuckling at the image before him:  
Three scorched Vampires, a destroyed hotel room, and Dean, laughing so hard he could barely keep from snorting.  
"Let's get outta' here."

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On behalf of The Royal and Honorable Society for Supernatural FanFiction, I thank you for reading Chapter IV, The Hotel. I hope you had a pleasant time!  
Watch out for Chapter V soon! It'll be amazing, I promise!  
↓↓↓↓Remember to R&R! You know, that box, right down there ↓↓↓↓


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